


Cold

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Tyler O’Neill. Beloved son. A world of heartache in five words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the first J/D fics I wrote. I'd probably write it very differently today, but it is what it is, and I hate revisionism, tempting though it is. *g*

It was cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones and chills you to the very core. The trees were coated in hoare frost, the lawn a pristine white. At this hour of the morning it was an amazingly beautiful sight. Untouched. Natural perfection.

Daniel drank his fill of the view and revelled in the peace of the moment. He loved this time of the day, the precious hour before the world truly wound itself up for the travails ahead. There was a time in his life when six o’clock only existed in the evening. Now, he loved 6am. There weren’t enough hours in the day. Being dead could do that to a man. He valued time; squirrelled it away as something to be cherished. Time spent asleep was time wasted. Ask anyone who had spent a year where time meant nothing.

Sam would say time was all relative.

Daniel would say time was all there was.

He wrapped his hands round the coffee mug and leaned away from the wall by the lounge window. He padded barefoot to the open fire and picked up a log from the basket, throwing it on to the guttering blaze. It spat and crackled, firing a piece of coal on to the rug, narrowly missing his feet. Cursing softly, he bent and picked the ember quickly but gingerly from the floor, tossing it on to the fire surround. He’d been quick enough. There would be no burn mark.

He sat on the sofa, tucking his legs beneath him in an effort to keep his toes warm. He hated the cold. There were days he still longed for the warm, dry heat of Abydos and days when all he could feel was the numbing chill of that first day on Vis Uban.

He would take a long, very hot  shower when he finished his coffee. Store up some heat for later in the day. It was cold out there now and the sky promised snow. It would be even colder later.

He drained the last of his drink but kept his hands on the mug even when empty, drawing the last of the dying heat into his hands.

It wasn’t just the weather that infused this chill. He knew that. He knew what was to come. He wondered if there was enough warmth in the world to see them through it. He still wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision. But he hoped.

 

 

The spray was at maximum heat and the bathroom resembled a sauna. Daniel luxuriated in the feel of the water hitting tense muscles and tilted his face upwards, letting the droplets do their worst. He ran his fingers through his hair, washing away the last vestiges of shampoo. He loved the herbal scent; so fresh and clean. A tiny amount of lather found its way into his eyes and he squeezed them tightly shut, knowing it was making things worse but unable to stop himself. White dots appeared before his eyelids.

He fumbled and switched the shower off and opened the cubicle door, carefully feeling for the towel he had placed on the closed toilet lid.

He stumbled slightly as he felt around, surprised to find the towel put gently into his hands.

Daniel placed it against his face and pressed hard. He ventured to open his eyes, blinking hard, once, twice, before the unmistakable outline of Jack came into focus. His face bore that half patient, half irritated look Daniel had become all too familiar with in the last seven years.

“Thanks.” Daniel smiled gently at him, proceeding to dry himself. Jack had pulled on some sweats but obviously hadn’t been up for long. Bed hair was still very much in evidence.

Daniel watched Jack eye him appreciatively as he continued to towel down and Daniel felt the familiar arc of desire spark between them. Most days, it would have led to another ten minutes in the shower. On any other day.

“Breakfast?” Daniel asked, wrapping the damp towel round his waist.

“Not hungry. But, go ahead. I’m gonna shave, shower.” Jack reached for the razor and began running water in the sink.

Daniel nodded slowly. He pulled a hand towel from the pile on the corner shelf and began to rub is hair briskly dry. “You should eat something.” He kept it casual.

Jack turned off the faucet, stilled Daniel’s hands and took the towel from him, rubbing Daniel’s hair gently, pushing some wayward strands back from his forehead.

“Quit your fussing.  I’ll be fine.”  Their eyes met and held. Jack dropped the towel to the floor and smoothed Daniel’s hair into place. Daniel let him. “It’ll be fine.” Daniel wondered who Jack was trying to convince.

 

 

Daniel had offered to drive. Jack had just looked at him and picked up the keys. Daniel knew better than to argue.

Jack pulled on a heavy-duty grey fleece and wound  a black scarf round his neck several times, fumbling as he tried to tie a knot. He swore under his breath, angry at his clumsiness. More angry, Daniel knew, at the shaking hands that made dexterity all but impossible.

Daniel finished buttoning up his great coat and moved in front of Jack, taking the ends of the scarf from struggling hands.

“Here.”  Daniel knotted the material loosely, smiling as he did so. Jack merely looked impatient. With himself, with Daniel? It was anybody’s guess.

“Thanks.” Mumbled gratitude.

Daniel wound a scarf round his own neck and pulled on woollen gloves, eyeing Jack carefully as he flexed his fingers into their warmth. “Ready?” Daniel asked, quietly.

“No.”

Daniel took hold of Jack’s shoulders gently. “It’s time, Jack. It’s past time.”

Jack let out a held breath and closed his eyes. He nodded. “Yeah.”

Jack pulled up the fleece collar and headed out the door. Daniel studied the hall floor for a second before picking up the sunflowers from the side table and closing the door gently.

 

It had begun to snow.

 

The drive was, for the most part, silent. The suburban streets passed in an endless succession of sameness; house after neat house, lawns tended within an inch of their lives. Gaudy  and  grinning plastic snowmen and  Santas seemed ill at ease among their staid, organised surroundings.

As they pulled up at an intersection, Daniel smiled at a wooden Father Christmas on a stick. Santa, please stop here, the sign read. The wind had pushed it to an unlikely angle. St Nick would have to be a contortionist to make head or tail of that message.

The snowfall was, as yet, light but one glance at the lowering sky convinced Daniel that there was much more to come. He shivered. He saw Jack turn his head briefly from the road to look at him and turn the heater up.

“Is it much further?” Daniel turned his attention to the man beside him. Jack’s face, normally so open, was drawn and closed. The journey was taking its toll. It clearly had an inexorable quality for Jack. Daniel could see he was torn between wanting this over with, and never wanting it to happen at all.

Again, he hoped he’d made the right decision.

“Couple of blocks. Always seems to take longer getting there than getting home. Never have been able to figure that out.” Jack’s eyes never left the road, handling the truck with supreme confidence; the way he handled most things in his life.

Of course Jack could figure it out. It always seemed to take longer reaching something you dreaded. Leaving afterwards was the easy part. Leaving meant home. Jack was nowhere near as dumb as he made out. It was just another layer of protection. Daniel was still peeling them away, one by one, each a hard-won victory.

Jack indicated left and turned into a long driveway guarded by ornate wrought-iron gates. He pulled the truck to a halt, letting the engine idle.  Daniel watched as Jack’s grip on the steering wheel tightened subtly. Fight or flight.

Daniel shifted slightly in his seat and reached out his hand to rest on Jack’s thigh. Jack looked down at the comforting gesture and turned his head to look at Daniel, who offered a shy, sweet smile. Jack closed his eyes and nodded. Moments later, the truck slid into gear and they moved on.

Jack chose fight.

 

The snow fell a little harder.

 

Daniel shrugged further into his coat and turned the collar up against the strengthening wind. Jack was walking slowly, hands shoved in pockets at his side. Daniel had picked up the flowers up from the back seat of the truck when it became obvious that Jack wasn’t going to.

The gravel path wound its way beneath sad, bare trees and seemed endless. The stones beneath their feet crunched into the snow-deadened silence.

They passed people. People who had neither the energy nor the inclination to acknowledge them; each wrapped up in their own thoughts, lives and losses.

There was so much loss here. It was written on the faces of everyone who walked by.

An elderly couple ambled slowly in front them, the man with his arm wrapped tightly around the woman who was sniffling into a handkerchief.  A family of six or seven angled towards Jack and Daniel across the immaculate lawn. Some spoke in muted tones; one of their number, a young woman, clung to a teddy bear. Her eyes were red, empty. Daniel looked away, unable to intrude on her grief any further.

Daniel hitched subtly closer to Jack, feeling their arms brush, hoping it offered him some form of reassurance and comfort. If it did, Jack didn’t show it.

For the hundredth time, Daniel questioned his decision and his mind went back to the telephone conversation a week earlier.

 

 _“Hi, Jack?”_

 _“Er, no, sorry, he’s out. But I am expecting him back soon. Can I help?” There was a pause as the caller made up her mind whether to take the conversation any further._

 _“Is that Daniel?”_

 _“Yes. I’m sorry, you are …?”_

 _“Sara.”  Daniel found himself gripping the telephone a little tighter._

 _“Yes. Right. Of course. Er, I’m sorry, I should have …”_

 _“Don’t apologise. There’s no reason you should have recognised my voice. We’ve only met once before. And we didn’t exactly have time to swap life histories.”_

 _Daniel grimaced as he recalled his brief encounter, if it could even be called that, with Jack’s ex in the hospital corridor all those years ago._

 _“Right. Look, I’m really sorry he’s not here. You could reach him on the base if you need to speak to him urgently. I have his direct line number if … . What am I saying. Of course you probably still have his number there. Sorry …” He grimaced again and raised his eyes heavenwards. He really sucked at this communication thing. A sad confession for a linguist/anthropologist, he noted wryly._

 _“Actually, it’s probably a good thing he’s not there. I might have more luck with you.”_

 _“Me?” Daniel realised he probably sounded a little shocked. He knew that Sara knew about their relationship and had done more or less from the beginning. “I won’t hide it from her, Daniel, and I can’t lie to her.” All the same, Sara and Daniel had never spoken. Daniel thought there was some unspoken law that said they probably never would._

 _“Yes. He listens to you.”_

 _“He does?” Daniel couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice._

 _Sara laughed softly. “Oh yeah.  Trust me. I can tell. He used to hear me. But he actually listens to what you say. There’s a difference.” There was no trace of sarcasm or bitterness in her voice. Daniel had always suspected she was a remarkable woman. “I’m hoping your powers of persuasion will be able to help me.”  
“Of course I’ll help if I can. What is it you want me to help with exactly?”_

 _“Christmas Eve. Every Christmas Eve I go to the cemetery. I take a Christmas wreath for Charlie.”_

 _Daniel closed his eyes. She’d said it. The C word. The unbreakable link between Jack’s present and hurt-filled past._

 _“It’s just something I’ve done every year. Don’t know why, really,” Sara half laughed and half sighed. It came across as an apology.  “I always ask Jack if he’ll come with me. I ask every year. Every year he says no.”_

 _“I won’t ask Jack to do something he isn’t comfortable with.” Daniel spoke quickly and realised immediately that he sounded defensive. He was defensive._

 _“No, no Daniel, you don’t understand.” She sighed. “I’m not explaining myself very well. Sorry, it’s …”_

 _“Please. Don’t apologise. Whatever you do, don’t apologise. It’s just … Jack doesn’t talk a lot about Charlie and I won’t press him.”_

 _“It’s just that this year is different, Daniel. I can’t go. My father’s been taken ill. He’s staying with his sister in Virginia and I have to spend Christmas with him. I think it might be his …” There was a pause as Sara gathered herself together. Daniel could feel the effort it took her. “I’m flying out in three days’ time. I have to go but I feel … I feel like I’m letting Charlie down . It’s dumb, I know. And I also know I do it more for me than him but still …”_

 _“I’m sorry about your father. And it’s not dumb.” Daniel’s voice was gentle and full of understanding. “You want me to persuade Jack to go to the cemetery instead of you?”_

 _“Yes. Look. I’m going to go down there tomorrow anyway. I’ll leave a wreath. It’s stupid. It makes no sense but I just don’t want him to be there on his own on Christmas Eve of all days. It just doesn’t feel … right.”_

 _There was a silence as they both digested the conversation so far._

 _“Okay, look, I’ll talk to him. But if he can’t do it, I can’t – won’t – force the issue. Look, I don’t know how you’d feel about this, but … if Jack won’t or can’t go, how would it be if I went?  I really don’t mind. I’d like to help.”_

 _There was another short silence._

 _“That’s very kind. Thank you. Jack said you were thoughtful.”_

 _“He did?”_

 _“Yep. Listed it right after annoying, stubborn and always right, I believe.”_

 _Daniel huffed a little laugh. “Yeah. That sounds about right. So. Do we have a deal?”_

 _“Yes, Daniel, we do. Thanks. But I hope you persuade him. I really think he needs to do this. I mean, he goes up there I know, but never at this time of year.”_

 _“Christmas is hard when you’ve lost someone. I don’t think it gets any easier, either.”_

 _“No,” Sara’s reply was wistful. “It doesn’t. Time doesn’t heal. It just gives you a way to cope.”_

 _The thought occupied them both for a few seconds. Daniel wondered if Sara knew how their losses gave them so much common ground. Maybe one day he would find out._

 _“Bye Daniel.”_

 _“Bye.”_

 

Jack stopped in front a headstone and reached out a hand to halt Daniel in his tracks. Charles Tyler O’Neill. Beloved son.

A world of heartache in five words.

Daniel watched as Jack crouched down and slowly ran his fingers over the gravestone’s engraved letters. It seemed he could only stand the physical contact with the stone for mere seconds and pulled his hand away as though burned. Turning his head from Daniel, he thrust his hand back in his pocket and shivered.

Daniel rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder but took it away when he felt the man flinch.

Jack straightened up and studied the ground at his feet. “Let’s walk,” he said, already moving away, from Charlie and from Daniel.

Daniel laid the sunflowers across the grave gently, careful not to disturb the wreath laid by Sara. He lingered for a few seconds more, touching the top of the headstone briefly before heading after Jack.

 

Snow that had been light was falling thicker and faster.

 

Daniel fell into step and eyed Jack, trying to gauge his mood. He desperately didn’t want to say the wrong thing but saying nothing at all seemed infinitely worse.

For the first time, Daniel truly felt that asking Jack to come here had been a mistake. Against his better judgement, and despite his protestations to Sara, he had found himself persuading Jack that he could and should do this.

Jack had arrived home half an hour after Sara’s call and Daniel had tip-toed around him to such an extent that an exasperated Jack had called him on it over a late-night whiskey. Purely medicinal, of course.

“You’re building up to something.” Jack sat beside Daniel, who was futzing with his laptop.

“What?”

“You’ve got that constipated should-I-shouldn’t-I-tell-him look on your face.”

Daniel hit the save button. “Constipated?”

“Oh yeah. So. Spill. What’s got your boxers in a bunch this time?”

Daniel closed the computer’s lid slowly. “Er, actually, Sara called.”

Jack’s raised whiskey glass stopped half way to his lips. “She did? What did she want?”

Daniel ran his hands across the smooth surface of the laptop. “I think she’d probably call it the Vexed Christmas Question.”

Jack’s face darkened as recognition hit. He downed the rest of the alcohol in one go and grimaced. “No.”

“This year it’s different Jack.”

“My answer isn’t. No.”

“Hear me out …”

“Daniel, what part of no don’t you understand?”

Daniel shifted on the couch, tucking his leg under him and facing Jack. “Sara can’t  go on Christmas Eve this year. Her father’s very ill.”

“She didn’t tell me.” Jack eyed his glass, looking as though he wanted to lose himself in it.

“It’s only just happened. He’s in Virginia with his sister and she’s flying out to be with him.”

Jack rolled the glass between his hands. “The answer’s still no.”

“For her, Jack. Go for her.”

Jack cut him off. “She’ll understand.”

“No, she won’t.” Daniel hitched closer, ignoring Jack’s slight move away from him. “Look, if you can’t do it for yourself do it for her. For Charlie.”

Jack turned furious eyes on his lover. “Don’t you dare bring Charlie into this.” Daniel had heard that cold, level tone many times before. But it had never been directed at him.

“How can I not?” Daniel heard his own voice rising. “Sara is torn apart. She has to be with her father but she needs to be with Charlie. You can help her do both.”

Jack stormed into the kitchen to raid the whiskey bottle again. “Don’t lecture me, Daniel. You don’t understand.”

Daniel rose to follow him. “No, you’re right. I don’t.” He gentled his voice with some effort. “Look, I won’t force this. It’s not my place …”

“Damn straight.” Jack took a long drink.

“But please, just, think about it. I’ll be right with you, if you want me to be.”

Jack downed a double and pulled a face as the heat forced its way down his gullet. He placed the glass carefully on the counter. “It’s Tuesday. Your turn to put out the garbage.”

He headed for the lounge and Daniel heard the TV switch into life. Daniel sighed and poured himself a large one. It was only as the amber liquid hit his stomach that he remembered he didn’t much like whiskey.

 

Two hours later, as Daniel left the bathroom and headed for the bedroom, he found Jack hanging shirts in his closet, his back to Daniel.

“Not a wreath. I’ll get sunflowers,” Jack said softly. The closet door closed quietly.

Daniel walked up behind Jack, slid his arms around him and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. And held him.

 

So here they were, the snow falling on them in the middle of a frozen cemetery. “You okay?” Daniel sniffed, searching through his coat pocket for a handkerchief.

Jack regarded him wryly. “Oh yeah. One of my favourite places in the whole world.”

Daniel blew his nose. “Yeah, sorry. Dumb question. I just, look … Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have suggested you came.”

Jack stopped walking and turned to look at Daniel, who was stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket awkwardly.

“No. No, you were right. If Sara couldn’t be here, then I should.” Jack exhaled a deep breath, which condensed in the freezing air.

“But.”

“But what?”

“It sounded like there was a but coming.” Daniel adjusted the scarf around his neck, tucking it as snuggly under his chin as he could. The temperature was dropping by the minute.

“I can’t be here in winter. It’s too … cold. Sometimes, sometimes I come in summer and sit over there,” Jack pointed to a bench under a tree. “He’d be a teenager now.”

Daniel smiled. “Yeah, all bleak music, black clothes and girlfriend angst.”

“Maybe. His mom would think more top of his class, baseball captain and babe magnet.”

Daniel smiled again. Jack half smiled. “Truth is, Daniel, I’ve never been able to find him here. I know Sara finds, I don’t know, comfort here, I guess. I’ve never found that.”

Daniel nodded gently, finding it hard to hear Jack talk like this.

Jack began walking again, his feet starting to crunch through the snow that was now lying beneath his feet. “At first, I could hear his voice, see his face as clear as day. Sometimes, when I dreamed, I woke up sure I’d touched his face. Held him. It just made it all the harder when I realised it wasn’t real. He’d really gone. I think that’s when I stopped looking for him. It hurt too much.

“God, listen to me. Pencil me in for a slot on Dr Phil.” Jack snorted softly, his eyes fixed on the fast-disappearing path in front of him. They walked in a silence for a while, watching other visitors hurry to their cars, eager to be home before the weather really closed in.

The snow was starting to mute sounds and Daniel found himself slightly startled when Jack started speaking again.

“It’s ironic. I didn’t want to find him back then. Now, I think maybe it’s time to look again. And I’m afraid I won’t find him. The only time I see his face clearly is when I look at his photos. I’m starting to forget what his voice sounded like.”

Jack came to a halt. His voice fell to a whisper. “I don’t want to lose him, Daniel. I can’t.”

Daniel’s eyes met Jack’s. So much pain. He cupped his hand to Jack’s cheek and Jack turned his face into the hand, seeking comfort. Daniel felt wet warmth slide down his fingers and, with his other hand, pulled Jack to him gently until Jack’s head rested on his shoulder. Daniel’s arms encircled him and he pressed a warm kiss into his neck. They stood in the snow and the cold, Daniel aware of curious glances cast their way. He didn’t care. If this wasn’t the place for grief, where was?

Daniel rocked Jack gently. He found himself a little surprised that Jack would let him do that. Then he mentally chided himself; Jack knew how necessary a hug could be. A storeroom long ago had proved that.

Minutes later, Jack pulled away. He swiped a hand across his face. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to lay all that on you.”

Daniel ran a hand up Jack’s arm. “S’okay. I’m gonna head back to the truck. Why don’t you stay for a few minutes?”

Jack shook his head. “No need. He’s not here Daniel.”

Daniel nodded. “I think … I think he’s always with you, Jack, always has been. You may not think so but I see it. In the way your eyes light up when his name is mentioned; the way you throw a baseball, wield an ice hockey stick. You’ve never lost him.”

Jack’s face tightened and he took a deep breath. He looked at Daniel, eyes full of love. “Who needs Dr Phil, huh?” He put an arm round Daniel’s shoulders.

Daniel smiled. So did Jack.

Daniel knew they’d only scratched the surface of Jack’s feelings but it was a beginning. They could talk more later, if Jack wanted to. Daniel hoped he did.

“Come on, last thing I need is you getting double pneumonia for Christmas.” Jack’s hand fell from the shoulder to the small of Daniel’s back.

“Oh I don’t know. It would beat that hideous sweater your mother bought me last year.”

Jack laughed out loud.

And still the snow fell.


End file.
